Be Kind, Rewind
by madeinfrance
Summary: "'I'm fine.' His voice is hoarse, uncertain, and her heart breaks a little more. Closing her eyes, Lois holds him even tighter. 'No, you're not. But you will be.'" Clark x Lois - Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice, slightly retold.


When he comes back, her entire body is still shaking.

She's tough, she's fearless, she's resistant, but apparently, even Lois Lane has her limits.

As soon as he's within reach, she's in his arms.

"Are you okay?," Clark whispers, voice worried as he holds her, and she hangs on to his cape, releasing a shaky breath she didn't know she was holding.

"Yeah," she manages, nodding as she burries her face into his neck. "Yeah."

She feels him gently kiss her temple, and, fighting herself, pulls away.

"Is he dead?"

"No," he answers, jaw tightening, and Lois brings both of her hands to his face, trying to melt his anger away.

"I'm fine," she says, smiling for his sake. "It's okay. And I don't think it's entirely his fault – something was wrong," she admits, frowning, but the sound of approching motors interrupt them. "Soldiers of the General?"

"No, US Government," Clark corrects, eyes looking at what hers can't see above her head.

Turning back to him, she gently pushes away. "Go."

She can tell by the look on his face that he doesn't want to, and squeezes the large hand she's still holding, trying to reassure him despite her own heart still beating faster than it ever has (falling of space included).

"It's going to be fine. Stay around for a moment if you want, but you have to leave this place, Clark."

She holds his gaze and, after a few seconds, he reluctantly nods.

"Okay. I'll see you at home."

And, with a last kiss to her forehead, he's gone.

* * *

Still slightly out of breath, Lois tightens his arms around her, snuggling even closer to him as she sits againt his hard chest in the little water left in the bathtub.

Her head's fallen on his shoulder, and she closes her eyes when he drops an infinitively gentle kiss on her neck.

"I love you, Lo," he whispers, voice so quiet she might be dreaming it. "No matter what."

And he's so sure, so sincere, it makes her heart explode and ache at the same time, the knowledge that he'd do anything for her, at any price, overwhelming. "I know," she tells him, her fingers squeezing the arm that's keeping her grounded by the waist.

She can't say it right now, because she doesn't think she can talk enough for that, but she hopes he knows how much more she loves him, too. No matter what.

"Also," he speaks again, "both of my shoes landed in the sink," and Lois opens her eyes to see that they did, indeed, land as perfectly as if they were carefully put there. "I mean, that's just talent."

She laughs, shootings, hearings and screamings momentarily forgotten, and holds on to him even tighter.

* * *

She's putting on her watch when, looking at his sleeping form over her shoulder – because there's not much else she loves more than this sight, if she's being honest – she sees him slightly gripping the sheets, eyebrows furrowed.

Sighing, she turns back and heads towards their bed, reaching for him, knowing full well what's troubling him, even in his dreams.

For the most part, the nightmares have stopped, now. But a bad day, a perceived failure on his part, and they come back right away.

Hand traveling on his muscular back, Lois settles next to him, one leg under her as she bends down to kiss his neck.

"Clark," she tries, fingers squeezing his shoulder. "Clark, wake up," and, after a small shake, he opens up his eyes at once, the audible intake of breath enough to confirm what she already knew.

Gently running her fingers over his skin, Lois drops another kiss behind his ear and waits, smiling at his still sleepy blue eyes when he finally turns his head to look at her. "Good morning," she whispers, cupping his cheek.

"Hey," he manages after a few seconds, voice deep.

"Bad dream, huh?"

"It's nothing," he tries as he completely turns over on his back, snaking an arm around her waist to bring her closer.

It's not nothing: he's nervous about the hearings, nervous because he's scared of people misunderstanding what he's trying to do, much like some of them did after the battle of Metropolis a year and a half ago, when all he ever wanted to do was help. He's scared, and this time, it's of the consequences of something _she_ 's involved in – her, who swore to herself to protect him as she held him against her, broken, in the ruins of her city two years ago.

She hates herself.

He doesn't say it, though, doesn't even hold her responsable, she knows – but that doesn't make her feel any better.

"Why are you already dressed?," he asks instead as he takes in her grey dress, frowning with worry. "Did you not sleep?"

"I did," she lies, even though she spent the whole night wide awake, the only thing keeping her from losing her mind his arms around her. The images of the disaster in Nairobi kept coming back to her, just like they did for the past three days. As much as she tried to hide against his side, head burried in his neck, they wouldn't leave her alone.

She's not going to tell him that, though – he worries way too much already. "I just woke up early," she smiles, thumb coming to soothe the skin on his forehead.

"I was going to head to the office, but since you're up because I shook you awake," and he chuckles at that, "how about I start here and we go together?"

Clark smiles. "Deal."

* * *

 _"Superman is a hero – okay. But whose hero?"_

 _"If Superman was here, right now, what you want to say to him?"_

 _"That my family, too, had dreams,_ " the young woman continues, tears in her voice. _"To look him in his eye, and ask him how he decides which lives count – and which ones do not."_

Lois looks away from the TV and at him as he looks down, shoulders heaving as if he just took up another weigh on his already weighted shoulders.

He probably did.

"You didn't kill anyone in that desert," she says right away, and if she didn't already know he wasn't okay, the fact that she actually manages to startle him would have done it. "You didn't do anything wrong."

He looks at her, surprise and pain on his perfect face, and, shaking his head, looks down and heads back to the frying pan.

"What she says still isn't wrong," he simply says, and there's so much guilt in it, her throat close for a moment. He doesn't deserve that – any of that.

"She's grieving. And when you're grieving, the easiest thing to do is to find someone to blame." _And I'm going to prove them it shouldn't be you,_ she doesn't say.

Instead, Lois just comes to stand behind him as he starts to cook some pancakes, both arms around his waist. "It doesn't change the fact that you can't save everyone, Clark," she mumbles against his skin, kissing the space between his shoulder blades. "We've talked about this. If you're going to do this, you have to accept that. You're doing everything you can: every wrong that happens isn't your responsability, much less your fault."

He doesn't say anything, and for a moment, Lois thinks he's not going to. It doesn't matter, anyway - she'll still hold him.

"I know that," he eventually responds. "It's just – no matter what I do, it never seems to be enough," he quietly admits.

In that instant, Lois feels so helpless, so terribly helpless, all she can do is kiss him again, closing her eyes as she drops her head against his back.

"I know," she whispers, chest tight. "I'm sorry. But if it helps, I think it is - you are. You're more than enough, honey."

* * *

That day, his statue in Heroes park is soiled. The red words couldn't be worse if they tried.

Lois looks over at him, heart aching at his confused, hurt expression. She swears to herself she's going to find out what happened in that desert if it's the last thing she does.

That night, and as expected, Clark doesn't come back home straight away. When she gets up to leave her desk, he's already been gone for a few hours, pretexting some interviews he has to make. She knows he's probably flying in some isolated part of the world right now.

Sighing, Lois turns off her desk light, gathers her things and heads for the elevator.

She's just taken a shower and settled on the couch to continue her research when the window opens, and she turns her head to see him emerge from it. Without an hesitation, Lois gets up and walks towards him, his broad shoulders crunched down.

He doesn't look up at her, but she doesn't need an invitation - as soon as she's next to him, she draps her arms around his neck, bringing her body as close to his as she can as she stands on her tiptoes.

It takes him a second, but then he holds her back, holds her like he does sometimes, when it feels like he's drowning and she's the only thing that's keeping his head out of the water.

"I'm sorry, baby," she whispers against his ear, one hand burried in his dark curls.

"I'm fine." His voice is hoarse, uncertain, and her heart breaks a little more. Closing her eyes, Lois holds him even tighter.

"No, you're not. But you will be," she says firmly. Sighing, she kisses the side of his neck. "I promise you'll be okay again." They stay like that for a while and then, fingers traveling on his nape one last time, Lois pulls away, and faces him.

"So," she starts, tone as perky as she can muster. "After such a shitty day, my offer is: no news, _lots_ of wine, take-out and a DVD that you can chose without me whining about it. Tempted?"

He smiles, a tentative, small smile, and even though she hates that it doesn't reach his eyes, she smiles back.

"Very."

"Great. Make out first, though – come here."

* * *

That night, she makes love to him as tenderly as she can, fingers ghosting over his skin, his arms, his chest. Over that face she loves so much.

She doesn't understand - can't understand how people could hate someone like him, how they can blame him the way they do. Even not knowing the whole truth about who he really is – they have no right to treat Superman that way.

To treat anyone that way, really, but particularly him.

The more she lives in it, the more she thinks the world's insane.

Closing the door behind her, Lois silently makes her way back to the dark bedroom, his Kansas City Team sweatshirt hanging on her. Taking a last sip, she then drops her glass of water on the dresser and heads for his side. He's still not sleeping, of course, opened and tired eyes fixed on the ceiling, a hand behind his head.

Guided only by the moonlight reflecting through the curtains, she settles on his stomach, legs either side of his body. He looks at her, and she smiles. Fingers coming to brush away the hair out of his face, she lets her eyes meets his for a few seconds before bending so she can lay on his naked chest, her forearms on the bed coming to frame his face as she kisses him gently.

"You're not alone in this, Clark," she promises against his lips. His arms close around her small frame, holding on, and she kisses him again. "You never will be."

* * *

"So: why didn't you tell me?"

Smiling, Lois doesn't bother to turn, and keeps stuffing whatever she's going to need in her small travel bag. He sighs. "You're digging up snakes, Lo. That's kind of dangerous."

"So is looking for the Batman." He frowns, and she smirks.

"How did you - "

"I'm a Pulitzer-winning reporter, Smallville. I notice things." She winks, and, shaking his head, Clark smiles knowingly at her – right before Perry the angry makes his entrance.

"Lane, don't you have a plane to catch?" Hiding her own smile, Lois grabs her bag.

"Yes, sir."

* * *

"Hey, babe."

 _"Hey. How was the flight?"_

"Like a coach on," she tries to joke, and smiles when she hears him chuckle a little. "I got to work as soon as I landed, but I got a good night of sleep last night, so I'm alright."

She is – she may not be having as much rest as she pretends to, but he doesn't need to worry about her nightmares, on top of everything.

 _"Really?"_

"Yes – don't worry. How did the benefit go?"

For a few seconds, he hesitates, and when he speaks again and tells her everything went well, Lois has the feeling he's not telling her the complete truth. Letting it go anyway, she finally decides on asking the question that's she's been dying to.

"Are you okay?" He chuckles, but there's not much humor in it.

 _"I'm guessing you've watched PBS too, then."_

"We knew people were going to question Superman motives, Clark. Today, their voice is louder because of what happened in the desert, but something was not right over there, and once I've figured that out - "

 _"They're not wrong. Senator Finch makes a point."_

"I'm not sure the people you saved would agree with that _. I_ certainly don't."

" _You're biased._ "

"So are you, honey. In today's world's, every action is political – or at least, will be made political. If you're going to do this, you'll have to accept that, and stick to what you believe is right no matter what people say."

 _"But what gives me the right, Lo?"_

"The right to what? Save people?"

 _"Decide who lives and who doesn't."_

"You don't _decide_ who die, Clark. You're not God, and you never pretented to be: you can't save everyone. You just can't, and that's not your fault. You don't even have to help the people you do, but you do it anyway because you're a good man and you want to help. You've seen the same segments as I did: some people know that. Others will understand it with time. And for those who don't, too bad for them."

She holds her phone tighter, hoping he's really listening. "But you don't owe them a thing, Clark." He snorts.

 _"Mom said the same thing._ "

"And that's why I love her so much." He doesn't say anything, and Lois knows that none of what she can say, none of what his own mother can say will ever convince him out of the duty and responsability he thinks he has towards humanity.

Holding back a sigh, she smiles to her phone instead. "Did you see the protest march video on Kennedy Avenue?", she eventually says in an attempt to cheer him up.

 _"I've heard about it,"_ he responds _. "But that's it."_

"Oh, then I'm sending you the link right now," she smirks, stucking her phone between her ear and her shoulder to begin her Internet search. "You've seen how they were yelling out and holding out those stupid signs, right?"

Go home. Earth belongs to humans. Superman = illegal alien. Probably the same stupid shit that's going to appear during the commitee debate. "Well, those assholes - "

 _"Lois."_

"Sorry: those _stupid_ assholes got a little response from the habitants of the street, who didn't really share their opinions."

 _"What do you mean?"_

Lois smirks. "They threw paint and water at the protestants."

* * *

"C.I. thinks the desert was a set up: somebody wanted Superman to look guilty." Lois is assaulted by a hundred emotions at his words: relief, anger, confusion.

Mainly anger.

"The bullet?" Discreetely, the colonel hands it back to her.

"The metal was developed by a private company."

"What company?"

"Lexcorp."

Surprised, she turns to look at him.

"Lex Luthor?", and he nods.

"He also had private security contractors in the desert compound," and suddenly, the images come back to her. Shaking those thoughts away, Lois swallows hard, and fixes her eyes on his.

"Go on record." As expected, he only smiles.

"Not a chance. It's classified," he reminds her as he gets up. "I happen to like my job."

"It doesn't make sense," Lois frowns as she stands up as well. "You said that the ambush was arranged to frame Superman, but how could they know that he'd show up in the - "

And, just like that, realization dawns on her.

"In the middle of the desert," she finishes in a breath. Grabbing her bag, Lois feels her pulse rising.

Thanking the colonel for his help, she rushes towards the nearest tube station, and gets her phone out.

* * *

Clark doesn't anwser. She starts panicking.

* * *

"An anonymous source can verify everything I told you about what happened in Nairobi."

 _"An anonymous source?"_ Perry points out, ironic. Shit.

"Run it. Luthor engineered the desert – it was an ambush for Superman. Trust your reporter: think Watergate."

 _"Yeah, and you need to think litigate. If you're wrong, Luthor will sue the paper out of existence. You need proof."_

"No: it needs to run _now_. Before the hearing: if Superman knows, it might change what he says."

 _"I am not going to risk the paper so that you can pass notes in class to the man who rescued you."_

Swearing in anger and frustration, Lois hangs up, and launches towards the subway exit."

* * *

She arrives just in time, but he doesn't turn towards her, and, unknowing, he heads towards the Capitol entrance.

When it blows up, her heart stops.

* * *

"Clark, wait!," she pleads before he can fly away, because she knows that's what he's going to do.

Holding a relieved breath when he looks back at her, Lois steps closer again, and gently reaches for his right hand with both of hers. "Take me with you," she asks softly, holding on tighter when he looks down, swallowing with difficulty.

"Lois - "

"I know: you need to get out of here. And you probably need some time on your own, too. I'll give it to you if you want me to, I promise, but – I'm not leaving you all alone after this," she says, determined, holding his gaze. "Please, let me come."

For a few awful seconds, she thinks that he's going to say no and fly away, and that scares her even more when she sees the pain in his eyes that she knows will eat him from the inside out. More pain than anyone deserves, especially him.

"Okay," he eventually says, voice barely over a whisper, and Lois chuckles in relief.

Bringing her body even closer, she interlaced their fingers together, dropping her forehead on his chin. She lets one of her thumbs gently run over his knuckles, and feels more than hear him release a shaky breath.

Smiling, she looks up and pecks him on the mouth. Clark tries to smile at her too, and she does it again.

"Let me get my things and pay, then we can go."

And so she does, and they leave Washington. They stop by their apartment, and they leave Metropolis.

He takes her to a small cabin in the middle of nowhere, snow convering every surface, and gently remove the flakes from her hair once they're inside, the cold air and the rest of the world left behind.

"Where are we?," she asks, looking around as he put his hands on either side of her neck to warm her up before going to start a small fire in the chimney.

"A friend's house. I met him when I was looking for my parents and – well, let's just say that he thought he owed me, so he told me to use it whenever I wanted to. We're in Canada," he adds, throwing her a small, complice smile over his shoulder, and Lois smiles back.

She thought she'd remember it as the place she found out aliens existed, at the time. Today, she thinks of it as the place where she met the best guy in the world.

"Bringing back good memories?" she teases as he gets back up, and comes to join her on the small bed on the other side of the room. Taking their shoes off, they lay on their sides, and press their bodies together, legs intertwined.

Her eyes follow her fingers as they slowly travel in his hair, on his temple, his cheek. They finally settle there, and she takes him in. "I'm sorry about what happened." _I wish I could just take all your pain away._ "But - "

"Can we not talk about it? Not now," he asks, swallowing down. "Please."

He looks at her, eyes pleading, and despite her urge to tell him it's not his fault, that this is all Luthor and that he doesn't deserve any of the blame for what happened from Nairobi to today, Lois nods.

"Okay," she whispers, hand gently moving on his face again. She smiles. "Okay."

She's not going to leave him like this, though, so she closes the small space between them and kisses him as tenderly as she can, desperate to make him feel better. After a few seconds, Clark kisses back, sighing when her lips leave his and travel on his chin, his face, his neck, one hand in his hair just like he likes, her whole body hugging him.

Before she realises it, he flips her on her back, his forehead to hers for a few seconds, breathing her in before carefully lowering himself on her.

* * *

"You know, there wasn't just hate signs in front of the Senate," she says, hand gently combing his hair, his breath warm against her neck as she stares at the ceiling. "I was next to two girls wearing ' _Superman saves_ ' tee-shirts and red hearts drawn on their cheeks. One guy had a ' _Supes' girl_ ' shirt, which I definitely have to get. There was also a woman holding a ' _Marry me_ ' sign - but I took her down," she deadpans.

Lois finally feels his lips curl up against her skin, and it feels like the best of victories.

* * *

She doesn't say anything, but she sees it. The guilt, the pain. The responsability he feels when he shouldn't have to – even his shoulders are not big enough for so much.

It's – strange. As if they're in their own little bubble, trying to stay sane despite the craziness that they know is happening outside of it.

They don't really do anything. The first day, Clark doesn't say much, and simply wanders around, struggling with his thoughts. She knows he needs it, because she knows that she can't fully understand what's he's feeling right now, and that kills her.

So, she works.

She works, because that's the only way she has to make him feel better. Right now, he doesn't want to hear that there's a person behind of the evil that's been happening, but when he's ready to, she sure as hell is going to prove to him that Superman not only did nothing wrong, but couldn't stop any of what happened, no matter how much he wanted to.

Luthor. She has the feeling bringing him down is going to be the most satisfaying thing she'll ever do.

* * *

The couple of days that follow are pretty much the same.

She lets Martha know that he's okay – or at least, that she's with him, and that he isn't alone. When the older woman thanks her, she knows it's not just about the call.

She tries to make him smile as much as she can, when they're together, but she doesn't push too much, knowing he's not in a good enough place yet. But whenever he comes back to her, she's here, dropping whatever she's doing in the blink of an eye to hold him, or just listen.

* * *

"I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"Dropping all of that on you. You never asked for any this."

Threading their fingers together, Lois kisses their joined hands, and then bring them under her chin.

"Neither did you. And I told you: you're stuck with me now," she smiles, even though with her back to his chest, he can't see her face. "Nowhere else I'd want to be."

Breathing her in, Clark burries his face in her hair, and she feels his body relaxing as his lips brush her shoulder.

* * *

One night, she feels him entangle his body from hers and quietly leave.

She lets him go.

* * *

When he comes back, dawn just broke. The room is mostly dark, the light still hiding away behind the heavy curtains, but, feeling his gaze on her, Lois lazily opens her eyes.

He's smiling.

"Hi," she manages, voice hoarse as she smiles back. Eyes sparkling – she doesn't know why, or how, but God does it feel good to see him like that again – he leans forward, elbows on his knees and chin on his hands.

"Hi."

"You're up early."

"Couldn't sleep. I went for a walk."

"A nice one, apparently," and he chuckles a little. It's not even close to what it usually is, but still.

"Sorry, I must look like a creep right now," he apologizes, although she can tell he's not that sorry, despite having been caught in full act of sleep watching. "But yeah. It kind of – helped me see things more clearly."

"Really?", she stretches, dropping on her back, extending her arm so she can reach his stubble covered cheek. His hand comes to cover hers. "What things?"

But, taking her hand in his, Clark simply shrugs. "Things," and, as she frowns, he offers her another smile, and then asks the question she's been waiting for him to be able to mutter.

"So: ready to go home?"

* * *

They arrive at night. She knows she's going to miss the tranquility and isolation of the last few days, but the city girl in her is glad to hear the sounds of traffic again, to feel the pulse of Metropolis, to see its skyscrapers and moving lights.

It's also damn time to put things right again, starting by exposing America's favorite genius and billionaire for who he is – an asshole - and what he's done.

Clark quietly lands on his usual spot behind their building he sometimes uses when she's not home and the window is closed. He puts her back on the ground carefully, and her hand travels from the back of his neck to his fingers, which she holds on to as she leads him towards the entry and then upstairs.

The elevator ride is quiet, her head leaning on his shoulder, hand still in his. As they approach the appartment, Lois is about to mouth how glad she is to get back to their bath tub when he abruptly stops, his entire body tensing up.

"What - "

"There's someone in here," Clark says, gazed fixed on what the walls forbid her human eyes to see. His brows furrow. "It's Lex Luthor."

Her blood instantly runs cold. Not from fear - not at first – but just out of the pure hate she feels towards that son of a bitch, and at the anger that his presence rises in her chest.

But then, fear does creep up, because if he knows about Superman, just like she knows he does, why the hell isn't he afraid to show up here?

"He's the one responsible for what happened in the desert," she blurts out, finally telling him what she has wanted to for days. He turns to her, confused.

"What?"

"The bullet stuck in my journal – it was from Lex Corp. He figured out your identity, and arranged to get me in the desert so _you_ would be there, and held responsible. And I think he's behind the DC explosion as well," she rushes. "I don't know why, but he's after Superman, and - "

But the door suddenly flies open, preventing her from finishing her sentence.

"Well hello, there!"

Standing there in a dress shirt and trench coat, Luthor opens his arms to them as if it was totally normal – and not creepy at all - that he was welcoming them in their own home, which he just broke into, a grin on his face.

Clark's arm instinctively brings her slightly behind him. "I was beginning to think my informations about you two lovebirds coming back to town were incorrect," he happily smiles, his suave voice both sickening and worrying her. "Please come in: we have a lot to talk about," he adds on a secrecy tone, going back in and gesturing for them to follow.

Looking at each other, they do.

"You see Clark, I think we have several problems," he starts as he enters the living room. When he turns towards them again, Lois notices a timer in his bandaged hand. "The problem of evil in the world. The problem of absolute virtue. The problem of _you_ on top of everything else – you above all."

"Is that why you're doing that to him? An inferiority complex?" Lois snaps, unable to hold herself.

Turning his attention back to her, his smile grows wider. "Ah! Plain Lo in the morning, Lola in slacks - Lois Lane! You're feisty, aren't you?" he mumbles, taking a step forward.

"Stay away from her," Clark growls.

She's never heard him sound so threatening – terrifying, really. Giggling, Luthor steps back.

"Looks likes our Kryptonian hero is smitten, isn't he? Well no, my dear Lois," he simply says. There's a shift behind his eyes, then, and in second, all trace of amusement is gone as he continues. "Horus. Apollo. Jehovah – Kal-El."

Next to her, she feels Clark tense. "You see, what we call God depends on our tribe, Clark Joe. Because God is tribal, God takes sides! No man in the sky intervened when I was a boy to deliver me from Daddy's fist and abominations," he accuses, and there's rage on his voice and features now. "I figured out way back that if God is all-powerful, He cannot be all good. And if He is all good, then He cannot be all-powerful. And neither can you be."

Luthor is looking at Clark with pure rage in his eyes at that point and, despite herself, Lois feels a shudder run down her spine.

"They need to see the fraud you are – with their eyes. The _blood_ on your hands," and he raises his own. The hurt one, which Clark notices as well.

"What have you done?" Just like that, he smiles again, suddenly shivering with what reveals to be anticipation.

"And tonight, they will. Yes! Because you, my friend, have a date with Gotham's finest – accross the bay. Ripe fruit, his hate. Two years growing!" he cooes, delighted. "But it did not take much to push him over, actually. Little red notes, big bang, 'You let your family die!'"

Smiling, he steps closer. "And now, you will fly to him, and you will battle him – to the death. Black and blue. Fight night. The greatest gladiator match in the history of the world: God versus man. Day versus night. Son of Krypton versus bat of Gotham."

"You think I'll fight him for you?"

"Hmm, yes I do," he shrugs, almost giddy. "I think you will fight fight fight for that special lady in your life."

"Getting through me to get to her may be problematic for you."

"Close, but I am not talking about Lois," he winces, sparing her a glance. "No. Every boy's special lady - is his mother."

And, just like that, it feels like the entire world collapses.

* * *

Lex has barely closed the door when she hears him speak, tortured eyes to the floor.

"I have to go to Gotham," he says in a breath. "Try and convince him to help me – or he has to die." Panicked, Lois comes to stand in front of him, both hands framing his face.

"Clark - "

But, before she can say or do anything else, he escapes her touch, and heads for the window.

"No one stays good in this world."

And with that, he's gone.

Frozen in place for a few seconds - because she's afraid of what he might do, of what he probably will do, of how he won't be able to live with himself if he does -, Lois shakes herself out of it and, despite her mind blurring and her heart racing, launches into action and out of the appartment.

The cab's barely stopped that she's already speaking, voice slightly shaking with nerves.

"The Daily Planet - quickly."

* * *

 _Come on – faster. Faster, faster, faster._

Sitting in the helicopter Perry arranged for her, Lois tries as best as she can to manage her breathing, and prays that she doesn't arrive too late.

* * *

As soon as she enters the ruins, she hears him cry out in pain.

Fear gripping her insides, she races forward.

* * *

"It's his mother's name!," she shouts, not able to keep the panic from her voice. "It's his mother's name." She's about to get up to push him off of Clark when suddenly the Bat lifts his foot, and start stumbling backwards. Her brow furrows slightly as his sudden change of behaviour, and the strange way he's now acting, but none of that is her priority.

"Clark," Lois whispers hurriedly, hands on his cheeks slightly shaking. "Clark, are you all right?," she asks desperately, and she thinks she might pass out from relief when he opens his eyes again.

He's pale, he's bleeding, and still weak from that damn kryptonite, but he's looking at her. "Hey, Superman," she smiles, the panic in her chest finally easing off a little. "Are you okay?"

"Franckly, I've known better," he winces as he tries to sit up, but then he looks up to try and smile at her, and it feels like another weight has been lifted of her chest.

"Figured. See what happened when we come back from vacation?," and he chuckles.

It's cut short, though, as Clark's eyes leave hers to meet someone behind her. She turns to see his broad, dark yet hesitant figure walking towards them, this time without the Kryptonite.

After a few painfully awkward seconds, he extends his hand to help Clark up.

* * *

"I made you a promise: Martha won't die tonight."After a few seconds, he finally nods, and, nodding back, Bruce leaves.

Lois turns to Clark again, taking his face between her hands before he has the time to leave. His hands go to her hips on instinct, and she quickly kisses him, allowing herself to linger for just a second before she steps away.

"I love you, okay? Please be careful."

* * *

After that, everything goes fast – so fast.

One moment, she's throwing off that damn Kryptonite thing where nobody would go looking for it. The other, she's cursing herself and that Luthor made atrocity, and launching in the water to get it back.

Another, and she's drowning.

Of all the ways it could have happened, she'd never thought she'd go down like that. If she had to bet, she would have gone with blown up in the middle of a war zone, or shot during a massive protest or something. But no – instead, she's drowning.

The thought is one of the millions that go through her head as she bangs her fists against the rock stopping her from getting out of that hell, desperately calling for Clark.

He's the one that occupies most of those thoughts.

A memory of the morning she laughed at him for falling out of the bed comes to her, his tousled black hair shining and deep blue eyes smiling. After that, everything goes dark.

* * *

Water suddenly rises in her throat and Lois is shaken by violent coughs as she spits it out, her entire body shaking.

She feels a warm, familiar hand supporting her back, the other gently coming to rest on her stomach and she clings to it as she tries to control her breathing. God, that wasn't fun.

"It's okay," he whispers soothingly, and she looks up to his still worried eyes. "Just breathe."

He tries to smile at her, his expression all at once loving, concerned and apologetic, for some reason, and his fingers move to her cheek. Before she can say anything, Clark plants a kiss to her forehead, then gets up and dives into the water.

All thought about her near death experience forgotten, Lois launches towards the pond, heart racing.

Each second feels like a decade.

After an agonising wait, she can finally spot his familiar form emerging, and rushes to help him.

"Clark!" Struggling, Lois fights to drags his motionless body out of the water, her weak arms trying the best they can to support his weight.

Finally – _finally_ – managing to get him on the ground, she quickly throws the weapon away from him before kneeling on next to him again.

"Clark? Clark, are you all right?"

"Yeah, I'm - " but he's interrupted by a heavy cough. Panting, he gets in his arms. "I'm fine," he nods, and she bends down to kiss his cheek once, twice before briefly allowing herself to hide her face in the crook of his neck, eyes fluttering close.

 _He's safe. He's alive – we're alive._ God, what a night.

The rest doesn't last long, though.

The beast – monster, atrocity – groans, the echo so powerful it seems to resonate within her bones, and Lois looks up to see it standing, arm up as a claw grows from under his skin. Jesus.

Lois feels Clark shift next to her and, turning back to him, her hands go to his face again on instinct as he looks at her, his eyes fixed on hers.

"I love you."

But this time, and for the first time, those words don't bring her any comfort, any happiness, don't warm her heart and entire body. This time, it feels like icing water has just been poured all over her and, glancing at Luthor's creation again, she shakes her head, not accepting what she knows he's going to say next.

What he's going to _do_ next.

"No. No, Clark, you can't."

"This is my world."

She can't breath. _No – no, no, no_.

"No," she lamely pleads, at loss for words. "No Clark, don't." Her hand is on his cheek now, forcing him to look at her hoping to make him see that no, he just can't do that.

But he's already looking at her, and he's smiling, smiling the way it always lets her know a million things without him saying anything.

"Remember when I told you I realized something?" he starts, and she does, but she doesn't want him to continue. She needs him to stop, stop right now – but he doesn't. " _You_ are my world," he says instead.

"No - "

Helpless, she watches as he smiles, his eyes looking as if they're trying to mesmerize every detail of her face, and Lois knows it's too late.

"No, Clark, please – _Clark_!"

But her arms fail to stop him and, in a second, he's gone.


End file.
